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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491508">a cup of tea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet'>notjodieyet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mentioned Jackie Tyler, Mentioned Master, Mentioned Missy, Other, Referenced Time War (Doctor Who), Tea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose makes a point to learn every one of her Doctor's tea orders. </p>
<p>aka, the complex intimacy of a cup of tea.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a cup of tea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rose didn’t know much about Time Lords. She only knew the Doctor, after all, and she was sure there was nobody like him, with his leather jacket and infectious grin and big box that was infinitely bigger on the inside. So was he, she thought. He was softer than he would’ve liked anyone to know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And sadder. So much sadder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Today was one of those days when he was so very sad, sitting with his forehead pressed to the console, whispering words that the TARDIS refused to translate. Rose didn’t think he’d noticed her yet, hovering in the doorway as she was. The humming and beeping of the ship sounded like helpless comforts for its beloved pilot. Its beloved Time Lord. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor didn’t look like a lord of anything, slumped over and muttering to himself. He looked like a man. He looked like a very </span>
  <em>
    <span>sad</span>
  </em>
  <span> man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose took a step towards him. He didn’t move, or look up, but he said, “That’s you, isn’t it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rose.” He sounded almost surprised. Rose wondered who else he’d been expecting. There was only her. Only her and the ship around them. “One second. I’m…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all right,” she said. Jackie was like this too, sometimes. Tired and sad and angry with the world. “Can I get you some tea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor sat up and smiled vaguely at the wall opposite him. “You don’t have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was going to make myself some, too.” Jackie always said that there wasn’t a problem that couldn’t be solved by tea.</span>
  <em>
    <span> A little bit of tea did everyone a lot of good,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she said. Rose thought maybe a little bit of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jackie</span>
  </em>
  <span> did everyone a lot of good. Jackie could serve supper to a Dalek and it’d be forced to say thank-you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor didn’t reply. Rose creeped out of the bridge to the kitchen, careful not to disturb him further than she already had, and put the kettle on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor never talked about the other Time Lords, or any friends or previous lovers. He brought up one of his past companions, once (that was what he called them. Companions. Rose was his </span>
  <em>
    <span>companion</span>
  </em>
  <span>). He didn’t say her name, just that she would’ve liked Rose. Rose thought that was nice of him to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d said something once about an old friend of his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Friend,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d laughed, as if that word was a contradiction of itself. Then he’d gotten very still and Rose was careful not to say anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kettle whistled, and Rose poured the water into two waiting mugs. The Doctor took more sugar than Rose would’ve thought. Maybe it was a Time Lord thing, the sugar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor took the tea from Rose without a word, bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It needs time to steep,” said Rose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” said the Doctor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose placed a light hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. When he didn’t seem to mind, she leaned down and pressed her lips quickly to his temple. “I hope…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over to her with almost-eager eyes. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cleared her throat. “I hope you enjoy the tea, is all,” she said, smiling thinly. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Rose woke up with the Doctor peering in her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was not an uncommon way for her to wake up; it was certainly better than waking up with Martha in her face, or Donna, or the Master. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” said Rose, and she shut her eyes again. The Doctor prodded her cheek with a single bony finger. “Stop that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s 8:14.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t,” said Rose, snuggling further into her blankets. Stealing those sheets from space Ikea had been the best decision this little family had ever made. “No time in the —” She yawned. “Vortex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor poked her again. “Don’t care. It’s 8:15.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it was 8:14,” murmured Rose. She was very close to shoving him off her entirely and possibly yelling for the Master to drag him away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time </span>
  <em>
    <span>passes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose opened her eyes. The Doctor’s face was still too close to her face. She closed them again. “Lemme sleep in. My doctor said it’s good for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Martha is not your doctor, and she just said that she wanted her beauty sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose opened her eyes again and tilted her head up to kiss the tip of the Doctor’s nose. “Another few minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor smirked. “Fiiine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose kissed him again, on the same spot, and traced her fingers across his shoulders, and all the generous freckles on his bare skin. They were like stars. He was like stars, and all of space and time and </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she had no idea about, and he was so much more than he let on. (He liked to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m so lucky” </span>
  </em>
  <span>about her. Rose thought she was luckier). “You’ve got to move.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor sighed and rolled over. He wasn’t particularly heavy, but Rose could breathe easier when he was gone. “Can you make me tea?” he asked, grasping a strand of her blonde hair between his fingers and playing with it, idly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose groaned. “You said I could sleep,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor made his wobbly, adorable, pleading eyes at her. “I want tea,” he said. He was impossible to say no to. His easy grin, his double heartbeats, his fierce, fierce love. (The Master had said once, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He loves everything,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>helplessly, as he stared up to the sky. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He loves everything and everyone and he always has, he just can’t stop loving, and I’ve only ever loved him.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose thought about loving everything and everyone and she said, “Yeah, I’ll get you tea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled out of bed and found the Doctor’s shirt on the floor, pulling it on and buttoning a few buttons with clumsy fingers. “If Donna makes fun of me again, I’m blaming you,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kitchen was empty and cold, and the cold air made the hair on her legs stand on end. She flicked on a burner and dropped an herbal teabag in a mug — the Doctor didn’t do well with caffeine (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“A regenerational quirk,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d told her). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kettle whistled. Rose made the tea and dumped a good three cups of sugar in. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“I like milk, too,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d said, but she believed that herbal tea and milk did not mix well together). She sang to herself, a lullaby the Doctor had taught her in Gallifreyan that sounded a little bit like </span>
  <em>
    <span>You Are My Sunshine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor was lying propped up on several pillows, flipping through the romance Rose had picked up last week. “Thank you,” he singsonged, and took the tea from her without looking up. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Aren’t you coming back to bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose considered that. “You’ve got me awake now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll read this to you.” The Doctor checked the cover. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good Morning, Samantha </span>
  </em>
  <span>— that sounds like a morning talk show.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a Sleeping Beauty retelling,” said Rose, defensively. It had also been very cheap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor sniffed. “I can read this Sleeping Beauty retelling to you,” he said, sounding fairly doubtful. Rose climbed back into bed, rolling her eyes, and stabbing at one of his freckles with her fingernail. “Ow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oops,” she said, flatly. “You’re a regular connect-the-dots page, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor acknowledged that with a small nod. “The tea is good,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Rose. “Read away.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>When the Doctor worked — </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> worked, got so sucked up in her projects that she couldn’t hear a thing from her imaginary bubble of goggles and safety gloves and bubbling test tubes — she talked. She used to talk to herself, saying things in Gallifreyan that Rose couldn’t understand, things that probably translated to </span>
  <em>
    <span>got to put that bottle with the other bottle</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or however science worked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now she talked to Rose, babbling away about subjects that weren’t remotely related to her experiments. Often, they were stories of her youth: what her and Missy used to get up to or her ex-fiancée on Gallifrey. Sometimes they were stories she made up, or fairytales from the many planets she’d visited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the moment, she was telling Rose about her and Missy’s third wedding with a big, happy smile. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mira</span>
  </em>
  <span> was there… her name’s not Mira anymore, not after she stole that ship, poor thing, but Mira was there and she proposed to me halfway through the —” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose looked up. She’d been halfway through her new romance novel, only somewhat listening to her wife, but the Doctor’s panicked voice alerted her that something was off. “Halfway through the what, hon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” said the Doctor quietly. She had dropped her beaker on the floor, where it had shattered and spilled a large puddle of green liquid. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she said again, the obscenities building in intensity and fear. “Don’t come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor leaned down and clumsily started collecting the pieces of glass. “I can… I can clean this up.” She sounded like she was trying to calm herself with her words, but it didn’t seem to be working. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it poisonous?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>poison,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rose, poison needs to be ingested. It is quite acidic, though. It’s all right, I’ve got protection, I was just…” The Doctor pressed her eyes shut. “I was just so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the middle of something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor nodded quickly: up-down-up-down. “Yes. Yes, in the middle of something. And now it’s all… it’s all like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I have to start over, and…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose raised both her eyebrows. “Clean up, and I’ll get you tea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But —”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clean up, and I’ll get you tea,” said Rose again. “And then you can look at this all again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor nodded, and Rose slipped away into the kitchen. Her hands knew what to do before she could think about it: water. Kettle. Teacup. Teabag. Wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This Doctor liked her tea with caffeine and a little sugar, served specifically in a blue mug. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“It tastes different,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she said. It did not taste different.) She liked it to steep longer than it should, so it was annoyingly bitter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose followed her usual instructions. She’d memorized the Doctor’s order quickly after her regeneration. Force of habit, by now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor had put herself together substantially by the time Rose returned. She was happily at work again, albeit on something else. “I realized that I could analyze the acid </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> it had spilled, because the TARDIS — thank you for the tea — because the TARDIS had made sure that…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rose sat down and picked up her book again as the Doctor talked about temporary pristine conditions or something. It was almost a perfect afternoon, but then again, every afternoon with the Doctor was almost perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe that’s what love is,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rose had said to Missy once.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “When somebody makes everything better, just by being there.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nah,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Missy had said.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Love’s a fucking mystery. Love’s what you want it to be.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And then she’d bit directly into a lollipop and crunched it loudly in Rose’s ear).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If that was true, this was what Rose wanted love to be. Sitting and listening to your wife talk about complex scientific experiments and her past weddings, reading a lesbian romcom about Halloween.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe love was learning your wife’s tea order, again and again, regeneration after regeneration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t much matter, Rose thought. As long as they could be here, together, until the end of time, and past that, too. </span>
</p>
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